Shirlee McCoy - The Lawman's Legacy

“So, you thought you would be her family and keep watch over her? I wish I could let you, but this is a crime scene.” His words were gentle, his touch light as he urged her back under the tape.

“I won’t touch anything. I just want to…” What did she want to do? Pray for Olivia’s family? Make sure her friend’s remains were treated with respect?

“My family cared about Olivia, too, Merry. I promise you, we’ll make sure she’s treated with dignity.”

“Olivia has a cousin in the States. You’re going to have to call her.”

“Do you have a name or contact information?”

“Meghan, maybe? I’m not a hundred percent sure.” She wasn’t a hundred percent sure of much when it came to Olivia. A half-dozen years her junior, Olivia had been as closemouthed and protective of her past as Merry. That had seemed to suit them both fine. Maybe it was one of the main reasons they’d become friends. Neither asked many questions. Neither gave a lot of answers.

Only, now, Olivia was dead and there was no way to avoid questions or answers.

Please, God, let the questions just be about Olivia. Not about me, or my life, or Tyler.

She shivered, and Douglas rubbed her arms, the quick, brusque touch doing nothing to warm her. Her teeth chattered, and she dragged the coat tighter around her chest. She wanted to zip it, but her hands were shaking violently, and she was afraid Douglas would notice.

“You’re cold,” he said in the same gentle tone he’d used before, and she knew why every unattached woman in Fitzgerald Bay wanted to capture Douglas’s attention. Knew why the women at church whispered as he settled into the pew with the rest of the Fitzgeralds. Knew exactly why she’d agreed to go to lunch with him twice and why it was absolutely imperative that she never do such a foolish thing again. His tone, his eyes, they begged confidence, promised protection, made a woman want to trust him with all her worries and every one of her deepest darkest secrets.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re freezing.” He grabbed the hem of her coat, had it zipped before she realized what he was doing. “Why don’t you go home and warm up? I’ll stop by your place and interview you after I finish here.”

Stop by her place?

Be near Tyler?

No.

Never.

Not in a million years.

That’s what she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“I don’t mind waiting here until you’re finished.”

“It could take hours, and the wind is picking up, the temperature is dropping. Charles’s place is off-limits until we finish dusting for prints, and you’ll either have to sit in your car or stand out in the cold. Go on home. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” He turned away, assuming that she’d go along with his plan. She wanted to. She really did. But she couldn’t risk having him so close to Tyler.

“I’ll be warm enough waiting in my car, and that will save you the effort of driving over to my place.”

“Is there some reason why you don’t want me to stop by your house?” He scanned her face, searching for the things she held close to her heart, the truths she’d never dared tell anyone.

“Of course not. I just thought that if I waited here, I’d save you some time,” she lied, because she couldn’t tell him how much the thought of having a police officer near her son terrified her.

“If you want to save me time, stop arguing about where I’m going to interview you and go home,” he said with a half smile that made her heart flutter.

Foolish heart.

Even terror couldn’t keep it from reacting when Douglas was around. She had to keep her distance. Had to keep him out of her house, out of her life, out of her heart.

Above all, she had to keep him away from Tyler.

“Interview me about what? I’ve already told you what I know.” Even she could hear the desperation in her tone, and Douglas didn’t miss it. His gaze sharpened, and he stepped close, his expression taut and hard as he cupped her shoulders and looked down into her face.

“What are you hiding, Merry?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

“Because Olivia is gone. Murdered, and I don’t know why. I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt her,” she responded truthfully, hoping it would be enough to assuage Douglas.

“Someone did hurt her though, and I’m hoping you can help us figure out who that was. That’s why I need to interview you.”

“I didn’t know her very well. Not well enough to tell you anything that could help.”

“You may be surprised at what you know and how much it helps. So, how about we stop arguing about this, and you go on home?” he asked, but it wasn’t a suggestion. He expected her to comply, and she knew she didn’t have a choice.

“We weren’t arguing. We were discussing.” She walked back to her car, giving up the fight to keep him away from her house. She’d just have to keep the interview focused on Olivia, keep it away from her past, her son, her secrets.

Douglas kept pace beside her, his silence grating her nerves and making her want to speak into it, offer more explanations for her reluctance, try to convince him that she had nothing to hide.

Because she didn’t.

Not anything that had to do with Olivia, anyway.

Several officers stood outside the door that led into Olivia’s tiny apartment in the cottage. Just a few hundred square feet, it consisted of a small living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom and a bedroom. Nothing fancy, but Olivia had made it homey and comfortable. Still, Merry had only visited once, Tyler’s rambunctious and busy nature making it difficult to relax in the confined area.

Visited once, but she’d walked through the apartment less than an hour ago. Touched the door handles, fingered the teacup that sat at the small kitchen table. Left prints everywhere.

The thought sent ice racing through her blood.

“What are they doing?” She gestured to Keira and another officer. Both were bent over the apartment door handle.

“Dusting for prints,” Douglas responded as he opened the station wagon’s door.

She didn’t get in. Terror froze her in place. “But Olivia died at the cliffs.”

“We don’t know where she died. We only know where she was found.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Why would you?”

Good question. One she couldn’t answer, because she was too busy watching Keira dust the doorknob and door frame. Too busy wishing she could run over and wipe away the dusting powder, wipe off any prints she’d left. Wipe away the traces of who she’d once been.

Please, God, don’t let them find any of my fingerprints. Please.

But they would.

How could they not?

She swayed, and Douglas grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This is all just upsetting.”

“Sit down. You’re pale as paper.” He urged her into the car, leaned in so they were eye to eye. “Are you going to be okay to drive home, or should I ask someone to take you?”

“I’ll be okay.” But her voice shook and tears she’d been denying since she’d seen Olivia lying at the base of the cliff spilled out.

“Will you?” He brushed a tear from her cheek, and she wanted to jerk away from the warmth of his palm, look away from the compassion in his eyes.

Dangerous.

So, dangerous to let him into her life.

“Of course I will be.” She wiped away more tears, shoved the key into the ignition and started the engine. She had to be okay. Tyler was depending on her.

Douglas studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

He closed the door and walked away, but the feel of his palm on her cheek lingered as she drove toward home, offering her a glimpse of what might have been if she hadn’t had to push Douglas away.